The Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn
by kiikii22
Summary: When Dean said we were moving to Paris I thought he had gone mad. In the end I was the one who was right. He's certifiable. Three weeks in and my brother has fallen in love with one of the angels. Moulin Rouge AU!
1. In which the boys move to Paris

**Okay this is my first foray into writing fan fiction so be gentle with me :p  
>This AU is based off of Moulin Rouge (Which I don't own) and heavily features DeanCas and a host of other characters (I also don't own Supernatural). Warning, this will become M rated in the future, but we gotta build up to the sexy times first, you know?  
><strong>**The little "snippets" at the start of each chapter were anon messages I sent to a certain Raven (castianity at Tumblr) because I couldn't help but be inspired by her own stories, which** are** really worth a read.**

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><p><em>"When Dean said we were moving to Paris I thought he had gone mad. The city of inspiration he said, great work opportunities he said. In the end I was the one who was right. He's certifiable. Three weeks in and my brother has fallen in love with one of the Angels.<em>  
><em>Dean's a writer, so of course we had to move into the arts district of the city, i.e. the slums. I can't find a bed long enough for me and all I can smell is absinthe and blood. Heaven became our refuge. And that's where Dean fell."<em>

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><p><strong>Sam<strong>

The year is 1899, when Sam Winchester finally finds himself in Paris, a smile on his face and his brother bouncing excitedly beside him. Their journey had been a long one, it had taken nearly five months on the ship to sail from New York City to Cobh and then their final port Le Havre. From there the six hour coach trip to Paris had seemed like nothing (saying that, Sam would be more than happy to never spend quite so long in the presence of Dean's dirty laundry ever again). Dean had perked up considerably since leaving the boat, and Sam finds himself grinning as he recalls Dean's first words upon seeing their third class cabin.

"What are we to them Sammy? Cattle? 'Cause I remember spending an awful lot of our savings on this damn floating log"

Sam had then proceeded to spend a good part of their five month trip continuously trying to convince Dean of two things. One, his name was Sam, not Sammy and two, they would have had to save for forty more years be able to afford a first class cabin. The remainder of his time was spent between talking to the other passengers and sketching everything he saw. Sam and Dean were jacks of many trades, so to speak, but each had one particular passion close to his heart. For Dean it was writing, poetry in particular, he found it difficult to properly articulate himself out loud, whether from fear of judgement or something else, Sam couldn't say. But when Dean wrote, it was with pure emotion. Sam favoured architecture, he could conjure up whole cities in his head, taking inspiration from his surroundings. They each had boxes upon boxes of used notebooks which made up the majority of their luggage, between them the boys only had seven shirts, two extra pairs of boots and the trousers they were wearing. Chuck had told them they would be able to get plenty of clothes when they arrived, Paris fashion was very different from what they were used to.

Chuck was Dean's old work mate who had emigrated to Paris two years previously, he and Dean were an odd pair, they would sit and talk about their writing for hours, ignoring everything else around them. Chuck was a playwright and had moved to Europe with dreams of becoming rich and famous, but he and Dean had managed to keep in touch, writing to each other regularly, with Chuck always ending his correspondence with the same phrase "You need to be here my friend, Paris is full of beautiful women, powerful alcohol and vibrent music". After a year of what Dean called careful persuasion and gentle pushes (what Sam called whining and bribery) they had packed up their lives and shipped out to France. Chuck had organised their accommodation as soon as he knew they were coming, which worried Sam slightly, because Chuck Shurley was many things, but organised was not one of them.

He's about to turn to his brother and suggest they move away from the crowds when Dean shouts out, running towards a short bearded man who is pushing through the crowds, ambling towards them. Sighing Sam gathers up their trunks, and follows Dean at a much slower pace.

"Sam, it's good to see you, did you grow taller again? You seem taller, unless I've shrunk...do I seem smaller?" Sam chuckled as Chuck tripped over his words, and feet, trying to greet him.  
>"Chuck, it's always a pleasure" before Sam can get any further, Dean jumps in, patting the small man on the back and speaking in a booming voice "Of course he's taller Chuckles, Sammy boy is gonna be as tall as the buildings he designs one of these days!"<p>

They all laugh as they share out the luggage, the brothers exchanging looks and giving Chuck the lightest case, before setting off for their new home in the famed Montmartre district.

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><p><strong>Dean<strong>

When Chuck had described his lodgings in his letters, Dean should have known the man would have used his artistic licence. So he really should have expected what they were faced with upon arriving. The wide streets were not full of beautiful women, instead there were old crones who looked just about ready to curse him for even making eye contact. And sure the building did have arching windows, and balconies on every floor, but the windows were dirty and the balconies did not look like they could hold the weight of a feather.

In short the place was a dump.

But Sammy looks at the building with such wonder in his eyes, that he can't bring himself to say a bad word against the place out loud. So Dean does what he does best, slaps on a smile for his baby brother.

"Well, well, well Chuck my boy. You've certainly outdone yourself this time" Dean grins at Chuck as he speaks, waiting patiently for his friend to shoulder open the door to their new home. At least the door seemed sturdy enough, if the other man's struggle to open it was anything to go by. Eventually Sam sighs, dropping his trunk down at Dean's feet (narrowly avoiding crushing them), before helping Chuck shove the heavy door open, eager to see the inside of the building.

"Well look what you've done now man, he'll be geeking out over the building for hours. Way to fuel his addiction Chucky" Dean winks at his friend as he saunters into his new domain, holding the door open for Chuck to drag the luggage into the hall. The interior of the building somehow managed to be worse than the outside, grimy with an overpowering stench of body fluids, not that that was deterring Sam, who had wandered off in search of their room, marvelling at the tall ceilings and winding staircases. It was a far cry from their small two bedroomed wooden house in Lawrence, but he would have to get used to it.

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><p><strong>Two weeks later...<strong>

Of course, Chuck had made use of his artistic licence in regards to a few other promises he had made in his letters. The most important being in regards to work. As in there was none. The two brothers had managed to scrape up a few jobs here and there, construction mainly, but it wasn't enough to keep them fed (nor was it particularly enjoyable, when their French was limited and all they wanted to do was write and design). So when they weren't working their asses off they found themselves sat in their shared living room, playing cards and drinking absinthe with Chuck and his misfit gang of friends. There was Ash, the lighting technician with a long ponytail and a penchant for making wild bets, his sister Jo, who spent some of her time helping her mum run the local pub (the rest of her time was spent trying to keep Ash in line). Pam and Missouri, the two psychics, who could quite literally put the fear of God into Dean (a role they revelled in). Then there was Bobby, an older man of unknown origin with a large beard and cold eyes. However, Bobby, it turned out, was actually quite the gentle giant once you got to know him, and he had taken quite a shine to the Winchester brothers, sharing his good vodka with them and teaching Dean how to play chess.

So when Dean sits and pens a letter to his old boss Vic Henderson back home in Lawrence, he can't help but smile. Because yeah they don't have much money, and yeah they basically live in the slums but he has his brother, and good friends. So he can't complain about the life they've made for themselves in Paris, because he's happy. Dean Winchester is happy.

And even if Sam keeps on complaining about his short bed what can he do? Really, the kid just needs to stop growing, it's not Dean's problem he's half person, half moose.

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><p><strong>Hopefully I will try and get some more of this written this week, and the boys can finally make it to "Heaven" :) Hope you enjoyed! <strong>


	2. In which they discover Heaven

**Chapter two. Listen I am so sorry I've taken so long to update, real life just got hectic between a family crisis and applying for university. Although I'm overjoyed to say I got an unconditional offer for my course Anyways, apologies, apologies! Thank you for the favorites etc it means a hell of a lot to me, now onto the next chapter 3**

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><p><em>Heaven became our refuge. And that's where Dean fell.<em>

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><p><strong>Dean<strong>

They had been in Paris for just over a month when Chuck suggests they blow what meagre savings they have on entrance to some club called "Heaven". His announcement rouses Ash from his nap, and Dean laughs quietly to himself as they watch him try to untangle his limbs from their hammock-shaped prison.

"Heaven? When? Do I have time to get a clean pair of pantaloons?" Ash mumbles as he rummages around in one of the many trunks strewn around their communal "living room". Chuck laughs nervously and Dean walks over to Ash, slapping his hand down on the other man's shoulder "Ash, what the hell are pantaloons, and do you even own any for that matter?" Ash slowly turns round to face Dean, his face a mask of confusion "I...Man I don't even know, what did I drink last night?"

Jo finds the three of them lying on the dirty carpet laughing themselves silly a few moments later, only pausing to raise an eyebrow at them before carrying on through to their kitchen and grabbing a clean glass "What exactly are you morons giggling about now?". Of course the three men all jump at once to defend themselves "We don't giggle!", "Yeah sis, it's more like...I don't know, guffawing?", "Ash what the hell is a guffaw?" while Jo just stands back, smiling to herself. Sam and Bobby soon join the commotion, and it doesn't take long for the group to break out the absinthe, the alcohol keeping them warm and happy.

Dean looks over to Chuck from his perch on top of Sam's travel trunk, grinning wildly "Hey man, let's do it, let's just go to Heaven, make a night of it". Chuck raises his glass to Dean and announces he's going to get everyone suits from his supply of props, dragging Sam along with him because "You're just so tall Sam! I might need to sew two...no three suits together!".

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><p><strong>Sam<strong>

Thankfully Chuck manages to dig out a suit that just about fits, although as Dean had gleefully pointed out, he would have to watch himself when he sat down, the backside of the trousers were very tight...  
>It's so odd to see everyone dressed up to the nines, and Sam can't help but admire how well his group of friends scrubs up, even Bobby pulls off his suit with the proper aplomb. They ask the girls if they want to join them, but Jo refuses on the grounds that she actually wants to make it into work the next day, and the psychics just shake their heads sadly speaking in a most serious tone "We don't want to see any more of that place". So the five men head off into the night, bellies full of absinthe and in Sam's case, just a little drop of dread.<p>

Any doubts he may have had disappear completely when Sam see's "Heaven", never had a name been so apt. The building was huge, with Gothic architecture blending in seamlessly with the newer Victorian styles, Sam had never seen such techniques used in America, had never even imagined such grand buildings could exist. He had barely even begun to properly study the building before Dean looped their arms together, pulling him towards the massive front doors.

"Really Sammy, with all the beautiful ladies we're about to be treated to, you're honestly happy to stand out here gawking at the building?" His brother holds up his hand before Sam can even articulate a response "Actually don't answer that, just keep up, alright?"

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><p><strong>Dean<strong>

After making sure that Sam was actually following them, and not stood on the pavement staring up at the architecture, Dean joins the rest of the group, adding his money to the kitty and watching as Chuck hands over their hard earned cash.  
>As soon as they've paid, the burly looking bouncers at the doors suddenly drop their threatening glares, bowing slightly as the group passes them on their way into the inner realm of "Heaven".<p>

It's the smell that hits him first, an overwhelming aroma of spices and heat, causing his cheeks to flush and his to tongue flicker out, wetting his lips, faintly tasting something completely new. Then they step past the plush red velvet curtains onto the main floor, and Dean is overwhelmed by something else entirely. The sheer amount of patrons is amazing, women (and men, which actually shouldn't have surprised him, in Paris men laying with men wasn't really frowned upon) dressed in bright colours weaving between them, throwing the men around them teasing winks as they dance. He finds himself rooted to the spot as a few of the dancers shimmy over to them, a dark haired woman with equally dark eyes throwing herself against him and whispering into his ear "Welcome to Heaven Sugar, don't hesitate to find me if you want to take this somewhere a little more..._intimate_" and with a quick squeeze of his ass the woman is gone in a blur of colour, and Dean manages to inhale a shaky breath.

"Well I don't know about you guys, but I could go for a stiff drink, if you catch my drift" Ash wiggles his eyebrows, twirling around one of the dancers on his way to the bar, Dean shrugs at the others before following his friend, easily spotting him at the busy bar. He hands over money for a round and points Ash towards the table Bobby had managed to score, right at the edge of the dance floor.

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><p><strong>Sam<strong>

They had just started their second round when a figure appeared up by the orchestra, his voice booming down to the dancers as the music slowly faded.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to my humble little Heaven, I do hope you'll have an _enchanting _time" The man grins and sweeps his hand down to the floor beneath him "Now, why don't we have a little dance before my Sparkling Diamond makes an appearance?" At the mention of the "Sparkling Diamond" the men around them go wild, cheering and stamping their feet. Sam looks around confused, leaning forward to speak into Chuck's ear. "What's going on?"

Chuck stutters slightly when he answers "Well that's Crowley, h-he owns Heaven. Everyone comes h-here to see his Angels and D-Demons dance and sing. His Sparkling D-Diamond is the most popular by far. Y-you'll see Sam" the smaller man smiles wistfully and looks out onto the dance floor, leaving Sam to wonder just which one of the dancers before him was the elusive Sparkling Diamond.

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><p><strong>Dean<strong>

Dean had managed to loose himself in the alcohol and the music, happily sitting back and watching the dancers move past them. It was just as the slimy looking owner had said, he was absolutely enchanted with "Heaven" and he really couldn't find a reason in his heart to leave. Bobby had long since disappeared off into a back room with an extremely exotic looking woman, and Dean was trying his hardest not to imagine what the man, who had become like a father to him, was doing. Ash had also stumbled away, most probably in search of more potent alcohol, the scrawny man was predictable at best.

He's so busy chuckling into his half empty glass that he almost misses it when the music changes to a slower, much more sultry beat, and the lights begin to dim one by one until only the chandelier in the centre of the room is left. Dean starts when Sam gasps, looking up into the rafters, and he finds himself whispering "What on Earth?"

From his vantage point, all Dean can see are feathers, twirling as they fall towards the floor. He hears Sam murmur something about Angels, but ignores him as he walks forward, something urging him forward, just so that he might see the figure descending from the ceiling.  
>Crowley's voice can be heard once more, clear and sharp over the music, "And now, my Darlings, I present to you, Castiel, my one Sparkling Diamond among these damned souls".<p>

And then Dean can finally see the lithe body, supported by wings of the most intricate design, feathers of gold merging together with blacks and blues, and it takes his breath clean away.


End file.
